


the path to heaven

by heavydiirtysoul



Category: Twenty One Pilots
Genre: Atmospheric af, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, M/M, joshler - Freeform, lots of feelings, so get ready
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-05
Updated: 2016-10-05
Packaged: 2018-08-19 17:14:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,625
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8218552
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heavydiirtysoul/pseuds/heavydiirtysoul
Summary: Sometimes everything just gets too much, but when Tyler needs him, Josh is by his side. He always is, and he always will be.





	

A lot had changed, and sometimes, the idea of just how different his life was from just a few years ago scared him to no end.

Josh was always by his side in those moments, those days where everything was just too much, too much of everything – holding him close, rocking him in his arms, soothing him, singing him to sleep when he needed no noise except Josh, Josh's heartbeat, Josh's voice, Josh's hands.

Those days always ended with him collapsing into heavy sleep, face nestled closely into the crook of Josh's shoulder, sobbing quietly until his mind finally, _finally_ came to rest.

Tyler had never quite realized just how strong Josh was, for the both of them – he fought through whatever lurked in the back of his mind when he was lying awake at night, Tyler snoring quietly against his chest, – and he never let the darkness get him, somehow, and he couldn't find words to describe how much he admired Josh for it, for how thankful he was. 

He wasn't that strong, couldn't be, not yet. And Josh seemed to know that Tyler needed him to fight for them both, to stand upright even through the darkest hours.

And time after time, he was Tyler's lifeline, a beacon of light and warmth in a world that was out to get him, to tear him down and drag him deeper into the void that was always there, always present, never asleep.

 

Tonight was one of those nights.

They didn't need words to understand each other anymore, not after all these years spent together, huddled into what felt like the safest place one earth, skin against skin and tears soaked into the fabric of their shirts and sometimes it was just the right thing to do; to cry together. Because the world was a scary place, and not even Josh could fight it all the time. 

So when Tyler's hand clutched into Josh's shirt after their show, pleading eyes, Josh knew better than to waste any time, he just scooped him up into his arms, carried him towards the bus, pushed the door close behind them with his foot.

Mark had seen them make their way through the dark hallways of the venue, had known, nodded to Josh, took care of clearing out the place, barking commands for the stage hands. Didn't ask questions.

Josh was thankful for Mark, each and every day, but even more on a night like this.

 

The bus is only illuminated by the dimly green exit sign above the door, but Josh knows his way by heart, his feet carrying them towards the back of the bus, where the bunks are. 

A cramped, confined space, walls closing in – Josh never understood why Tyler needed that, why he felt safe and sound when he was caged in like that, but he didn't ask. It wasn't his place to ask.

He tucks them in, pulls the blanket close, close enough to make it feel like they're only held together by the soft fabric, and his arms are around Tyler, small frame shaking in the confinement of his body.

They don't talk.

Tyler is crying, shaking, hands curled into the sheets, into Josh's arms, and Josh's hands are on his cheeks, in his hair, moving, never coming to a halt, a slow, desperate call for Tyler to come back, come back, you're safe here. You're safe with me.

It could've been minutes, hours, days, time didn't matter, never mattered when he held Tyler, warm hums into his neck, soft fingers carding through damp, sweaty hair, bodies pressed together in what could've felt like a trap, but felt like safety.

Sometimes Josh wished he had more arms, more hands, more limbs to let Tyler disappear completely into his skin and bones, to wrap him up and never let him go again, but he had only two hands and only two arms and only two legs and he did what he could, and that had to be enough, needed to be enough, and most nights, it was.

Tyler has stopped crying, only silent, coarse hiccups left of what had been a constant stream of whimpers before, and Josh lets his hands slow down, decrease to soft, soothing circles pressed into the skin of Tyler's waist, and the silence is ringing in his ears, and then Tyler speaks.

„Can I kiss you?“

Maybe his answer would've been a different one under other circumstances, but he never allows the thought later, pushes it away, almost angry.

But now, he is warm and sheltered and Tyler needs him, and he nods.

„Yes.“

There was the rustling of the sheets, the muffled sounds of the last people leaving the venue, the howling of distant winter wind against the windows of the bus, and Tyler's lips are very soft, trembling, careful, and Josh doesn't dare move, doesn't dare to ruin the moment.

It's over before he realizes it, his lips left cold and slick with saliva, and he notes that he doesn't want to stop just yet.

„Tyler.“

Dark eyes are locking with his, big as the moon, and his hands are back in Tyler's hair, ghosting over his neck, pulling him close again, so close that he can feel Tyler's hitched breath on his chin.

„Can I...?“

Tyler nods, small fingers resting on Josh's chest, warm palms against warm muscles moving slightly beneath smooth skin, and Josh is on top of him, a heavy blanket, safer and more needed than any fabric they could ever use to cover themselves. 

Their lips are moving slowly, testing the waters, and Josh can taste a hint of salt from tears against his tongue, tracing soft lines against Tyler's bottom lip, Tyler's jaw, Tyler's cheeks, and he's kissing his eyelids, kissing the soft crinkles in the corners of his eyes, the laughter lines he's seen appear so many times, the soft skin just beneath Tyler's ear, and he maps him out, inches and inches of home and love and stubble and musk and hitched breath in a chest that held everything precious to him. His best friend.

The love of his life.

The thought makes him gasp, makes him sit back with wide eyes and held breath, and he stares, glistening eyes staring back, honey and caramel and maybe something else, something darker, just beneath the surface, and his chest is close to exploding – or maybe imploding, close to collapsing into the realization that God, God, he loved this man so much that he'd never be close enough, never eloquent enough to weave his desperate feelings into simple love confessions.

And so he doesn't.

Instead, he pours it into every new kiss, into every ghosting fingertip on skin, into every traced pattern on faded tattoo lines, and Tyler is breathless beneath him, as if the utter understanding of just how much they needed each other stole the last streak of air from his lungs.

Josh's hands are slow, calculated movements, careful to reach every inch he could lay hands on, and if he could, he'd brand this memory into his mind forever. Write about it, sing about it, let his drums scream it into the face of every person in the crowd, let every last creature on this godforsaken planet know that he found it, he found him, the one he always needed, right beneath his wandering hands.

Tyler's breath is sharp and shallow, hips bucking against Josh's, and neither of them can pinpoint the moment when just being together wasn't enough anymore, and Josh wants to fall into Tyler, seep into his every bone, settle down in every crook, every curve of the body beneath him, occupy his mind, scare away all those dark thoughts and fill him to the brink with warmth and light and stars, and his lips are on Tyler's chest, the loose vest carelessly thrown aside. There isn't enough skin to press kisses on, there's never enough of anything. Never enough, and always too much. 

Every last bit of clothing restraining them has disappeared, and they are quiet, admiring, eyes soaking up skin and muscles and limbs as if they have never seen each other before. They're falling into a rhythm, slow and steady, desperate movements against the other, and Tyler's gasps in Josh's neck are sending shivers down his spine, hair standing on end, it's electrifying, terrifying, exhilarating. 

It's too slow, yet far too fast, the way they stumble and trip and fall closer to the point of no return, and Josh feels like crying, mourning every second wasted with not touching each other, not experiencing the fire and sparks filling his veins, making his blood boil with affection, lust, with pure and unscathed need.

Their bodies fit together like puzzle pieces, perfectly nestled into each other, desperate thrusts that go nowhere, it's messy and too much, too much of not enough skin, and Josh is crying now, silent tears as he lets his hands move and feels Tyler's hands on him, and the warmth gathered in his skin spills over, tenses his limbs, clenches his muscles, and he's collapsing into Tyler's chest, accompanied by suppressed moans and cried out whimpers as they wither away into a blinding brightness that is only them, them, them.

 

The night is long, but not long enough, it's never long enough when Tyler's chest is rising and falling with whimpered moans, it's never long enough when there is still so much to discover for Josh's hands, so many secrets and hushed whispers and mile after mile of unknown highways disappearing into the cold emptiness of the dark, rolling away under the tires of the bus, and neither of them knows where they are going next, but that's okay.

Everything is okay.

**Author's Note:**

> prompt me @spookykittyjosh on tumblr!!
> 
> i love this work with all my heart so comments are definitely wildly appreciated! let me know what you think!


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